


Rot

by EyeGens



Category: The Great Mouse Detective (1986)
Genre: Asphyxiation, M/M, Masturbation, Necrophilia, Sexual Assault, Undead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 19:22:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17648447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyeGens/pseuds/EyeGens
Summary: In which Ratigan is a walking corpse and Basil doesn't say anything.A kink-meme fill, the prompter wanted Ratigan to come back to life and take revenge on Basil.





	Rot

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-read, probably has a ton of grammar issues. Also I recommend to double check the tags because it really features a corpse inappropriately touching a mouse.

The first breath was somewhat painful.

Ratigan is incredibly grateful to that overly curious little mouse scientist who wanted to play God and, with slight difficulty, pulled out Ratigan's body that thankfully drifted to the shore after had already turned blue and swollen, covered in dark and red patches from a two day-long stay in the cold waters of the Thames by this point. He was brilliant enough to embody his plan of resurrecting the drowned dead body, and Ratigan in return was kind enough to kill him relatively quickly and painlessly. Of course, this was not a magical resurrection and Ratigan is somewhat annoyed by how his decomposed flesh rips on his joints with a soft, unpleasant wet sound when he moves, and his skin looks thin and white, showing veins that stopped pumping blood a long time ago, but it is a small price to pay for his life returned. Even like this, he is still as handsome as always anyway.

He has to tighten his cravat a little so his neck, broken from hitting the water surface, would not ache so much.

Oh well, at least his head doesn't fall.

\---

Ratigan always had to have certain feelings for Basil, and Ratigan always had to need Basil and Ratigan always had to want revenge and humiliation of Basil.

These feelings became the basis of his career as a great criminal of all of London and they are strong enough not to disappear after his death.

In fact, they may have became stronger, since Basil had greatly humiliated him himself by foiling what might have been Ratigan's largest case so far. And Ratigan, being a gentleman, had to return the favor.

Therefore, returning to his lair to his shocked and maybe just a little bit terrified henchmen (and feeding his wonderful, lovely girl Felicia with those of them that turned out to be stupid enough to start asking about their boss's unhealthy looks) and slightly cleaning up his appearance, the first thing he does is begins to ponder the details of their meeting with Basil.

After all, who if not the Great Mouse Detective will be so delighted to finally see his long-time nemesis? Albeit without a pulse.

Ratigan eventually comes to the idea of inviting Basil for a small date.

\---

Outside is a dark, gloomy London night with fog so thick one could only see the bright outlines of those rare windows from which the light shines. Basil nervously thinks to himself that it was probably stupid to come here in such weather, at such time of day and even respond to the invitation in the first place, but his anxiety and at the same time insatiable curiosity that often played a cruel joke with him, took over and now he is already waiting for a meeting at the base of the tower of Big Ben.

Initially, he was somewhat skeptical about the received letter. He saw Ratigan fall down, desperately clutching at the air in an attempt to save his life, and heard a splash of water and a disgusting snap. Knowing about the incredible luck and thoughtfulness of Ratigan's plans, even so he would never believe that Professor managed to survive and after everything that happened would want to write him letters.

Now Basil periodically takes out the folded sheet of paper from the pocket of his coat, regarding the handwriting, the words that the writer decided to use, the ink and the enigmatic signature "R" at the end of the letter. The same ink. The same quill pen. The same small splashes of ink here and there.

He hears the sound of heels on wet pavement. It is difficult for him to recognize the approaching figure in the fog at first, but when it finally occurs to him who this dark silhouette belongs to, his mouth dries up immediately and his eyes open wide with silent horror. As soon as the figure approaches a distance sufficient enough so that Basil can see the bright red underside of the cloak and a top hat, neatly tied around with a gray satin ribbon, he abruptly snaps out of his stupor and his legs instinctively carry him away as fast and as far as they can manage.

Everything happens with lightning speed, he hears the sound of his shoes against the asphalt, and then someone else's, whose owner is much larger than Basil himself, and jolts when Ratigan’s unnaturally cold hand, the freezing cold that he can feel even through the thick tweed of his coat, grabs his shoulder and turns him around to face the rat.

"Now, now, Basil," Ratigan stretches his purple lips in a grin, revealing his sharp teeth. "Is it really how you meet an old friend?"

Taking advantage of the moment when Basil is too stunned to be capable of struggling or screaming, Ratigan reaches with his other hand to his torso and begins to unbutton the detective's coat.

\---

His touches feel bitter cold and his whole presence is sickening. The surrounding cadaveric odor causes Basil to choke and cough on the air around him, feeling himself being almost strangled and make feverish attempts to break out of the steel grip. All in vain. Even in spite of the fact that Ratigan is a living walking corpse, his grip is still firm and steady, and his fingers are still elegant in their movements. The rat is not going to stop the detective, it is much more interesting to watch him when he is so lively. Going down the detective's now naked torso to his stomach and thighs, brushing his knuckles against the short sand-colored fur, enjoying the warmth of the living body beneath him, Ratigan relishes Basil's horror. He somewhat regrets not bothering to bring a camera with him to capture the detective’s facial expression right now; Rarely, after all, is it possible to arrange such a surprise for Basil.

He wonders if Basil would be more terrified if Ratigan would take off his gloves and start exploring the detective's body like that, leaving dark, sticky pieces of flesh on him and painfully poking him with protruding bones.

Basil finally lets a helpless cry break out of his throat only when Ratigan's hand eventually ends up on his groin and, not caring enough to strip the mouse of his confines the more civilized way, tears his pants open, buttons clattering against the ground.

"Oh, I am so glad you are indeed happy to see me!" He sneers.

Ratigan clamps his hand over the detective's mouth to prevent further screams– that could attract someone else to their personal meeting, someone who could disrupt everything– and notices that Basil gags and shifts his attention to trying to get the rat to remove his palm from his mouth. Ratigan pays those attempts no heed at all, instead taking Basil's member out and in his hand and stroking him in slow, strong thrusts along the erect length, his own flesh suddenly painfully in contrast with Basil's warm living body. He feels the veins of the detective's penis swelling and marvels in how surprisingly pleasant it is to feel the quick pulse under his own palm.

He wants more.

Ratigan suddenly removes his hand from Basil's mouth and the mouse almost manages to say something– maybe the usual, accusations of fiendishness and all that or, perhaps, he would even try to beg– but instead wheezes as the rat squeezes his throat tightly, his grip not strong enough to instantly suffocate him or break his neck, but digging his claws in the flesh hard enough to leave bruises and tingling scratch marks under his fur. His adam's apple wobbles as he struggles for breath.

"Don't you want to know how long Basil of Baker Street can last without air?"

The sudden lack of oxygen greatly speeds up the entire process. Not much time passes until Basil already feels at his peak against his will, despite the pain and fear and the fact of Ratigan being the one doing this to him in a dark alley while suffocating him in the same time. Before finally losing consciousness, Basil’s vision fills with dancing around black spots, he feels sick in his stomach as the hand makes a few last strokes and, as if through some wicked dream, he hears Ratigan give a low chuckle.

\---

Basil's coat hangs on the headboard of his bed. In the pocket there is a new letter with the words "See you later", the sender of which is signed as "R".

He lies in his bed, feeling the aching bruises on his neck, the existence of which no one but himself knows about.

Just as about what happened.

"Basil, perhaps you need to–"

The detective interrupts Dawson's words of concern.

"I can still feel the smell of it. Even in my mouth." He says, without any emotion in his voice, without taking his eyes off the ceiling.

"What are you talking about?" Dawson is more puzzled than before. Basil's room smells of only tobacco and maybe tea.

"Rot."


End file.
